Most level-headed people I know believe that Minister Chris Cardona’s pants are on fire in more than one sense. I spent part of the evening yesterday in the jovial company of people who happened to be Labourites. I was surprised to hear so many chuckles and unprintable quips about Acapulco, German sausages and such. Not a single person seemed to have any doubt whatsoever.
The first question to ask is whether or not it matters at all. The answer is not obvious. I, for one, am not interested in policing Cardona’s, or anyone else’s, sexual morality. If he thinks that whoring is the moral equivalent of going to a concert or a zoo, so be it. Besides, brothels are perfectly legal in Germany. Surely a minister has every right to take part in a legal activity in his free time?
Well, not quite. The problem is that while brothels may be legal in Germany, they are nothing of the sort in Malta. There are people here who are in prison for having run brothels.
Cardona was in Germany, but not of it. There are two reasons why people in his position are morally accountable to the laws of Malta, at all times and wherever they may be. Their sexual morality is irrelevant: it is the law that matters.
First, Cardona was in Germany on official duty as a minister of the government of Malta. There is a sense in which ministers on official duty carry their country, and its laws, around with them. Second, Cardona is an elected representative of a country where brothels are illegal. He sits in a parliament that upholds brothels as a criminal offence, and was in Germany in that role.
By analogy, alcohol is religiously legal in France. It wouldn’t do, however, for the Saudi king to be photographed drinking whisky in a bar on the French Riviera. Alcohol is strictly prohibited in Saudi Arabia, and that law is zealously upheld by the king. It follows that, wherever the king goes, he is morally accountable to the laws of his country.
There is no way around it: if it turned out to be true that Cardona went to that brothel, his position as a government minister would no longer be tenable. He is free to benefit from the legality of brothels elsewhere, but not as an official representative of a country that deems them a criminal offence.
Which brings me to the question that no one is asking: did he, or did he not? My opinion is that he did. I am morally convinced that Daphne Caruana Galizia’s story is broadly true. It’s a gut feeling, but then the gut is a far bigger organ than the brain.
Cardona is saying he can prove that he was in Essen all along. I can’t help thinking that, if that were the case, he would be in a terrible haste to present the evidence and clear his name
It has taken me the best part of a week to reach this conclusion. I know very little about Cardona’s preferences for rainy afternoons, and I suppose there is always a chance that a source, no matter how otherwise reliable, may be wrong. There was no reason for me to believe the story outright.
Saviour Balzan’s programme should have settled it. In a way it did, but not thanks to the way it was conducted. The programme was just the kind of chaotic mess we have come to expect of a gormless and bumbling presenter. The Cardona story served simply as a springboard for choleric Balzan’s own incurable grudges.
Still, there were four things about what wasn’t said that helped me make up my mind. First, Cardona came across as unsettled, but neither angry nor particularly upset. You might expect someone who had just been wrongly accused of whoring to be an absolute volcano. This is not exactly the island of understatement, and allegations don’t get more wounding than the one at hand.
Second, he was cagey and very, but very, economical with the detail. His rendition of the first day in Germany was heavily pixelated. I suppose someone who was telling the truth would have given us a blow-by-blow account of the delights of Essen, where Cardona and Joe Gerada say they spent the afternoon. He would have bored us with the minutiae of what went on with Gerada: certainly a consultant lawyer of that calibre must make a memorable conversationalist.
Not a single place was mentioned where the two stopped for a coffee or a beer. A passing reference to a meal (“we had something to eat”) is as specific as it got. Which is strange, because Cardona the lawyer knows that detail and specifics make a story much more credible.
Third, Cardona said it was Caruana Galizia’s responsibility to present proof, because it was she who made the allegations. For his part, he would wait to present the evidence in court. Only that’s as evasively legalistic as it is technically right.
Cardona is saying he can prove he was in Essen all along. I can’t help thinking that, if that were the case, he would be in a terrible haste to present the evidence and clear his name. Why would anyone be prepared to put up with a million winks and nudges, if they had enough evidence to clinch it?
Fourth, there is a pattern. As Balzan’s host, Cardona mumbled something about not having been at the brothel. He has since become increasingly assertive in his denial. It is likely that he has come to realise that there are no photographs or such clear proof. (Two giggly women talking to a Net TV journalist isn’t really proof, truth be told.) If my reading is right, the implication is damning.
There’s one more thing. Cardona hasn’t so far mentioned a single phone call, e-mail, or message he sent or received that afternoon. It’s hard to imagine why a sociable lawyer and politician should be incommunicado for such a long stretch. What makes it especially odd is that he is not usually shy of tweeting and posting his every move.
Cardona said the other day that the Prime Minister believed his story “from A to Z”. I’d have left that last letter out, because it’s exactly the part of the story the rest of us believe.
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